to slow dance
with you
is something
i couldn't do
for the room
would turn to ash
and the curtains
would spark
and catch
until we were
waltzing in
a burning room.
charred furniture
our audience
and the crackle
of the flames
our orchestra.
smoke and cinders
in our aftermath
yet, i would be
still ablaze from
this desire.
YOU ARE READING
unlit matches
Poeziecome and listen to the whispers of lions and the cries of fawns.
